


Hulked Out

by moonmanners



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Comeplay, Dubious Consent, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, Possessive Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Rough Sex, Season/Series 10, Top Dean, slight caveman behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8394307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmanners/pseuds/moonmanners
Summary: Suddenly Sam's all skinny and Dean's all ex-Knight of Hell, and the Mark is making it hard to make rational decisions.





	

It's not a problem, until it is.

At first it's even kind of hot. Dean's basically hulked out at the moment; extra muscle plus super Mark of Cain strength, and Sam's a whole lot scrawnier now. It takes them a while to stop tiptoeing round each other, but once they get started, well- they _really_ get started.

The first time they snapped, Dean had caught Sam coming out of the shower-room. He'd done a double-take at his slenderness, the prominent bones of sternum and rib and collarbone. But almost in the same moment his dick had responded. Because this was Sam. The towel had fallen to the ground, Dean's pants had been unzipped just enough to get his engorged and throbbing dick out, and then he'd full-on lifted Sam, naked and trembling, into his arms. Spat on his hand, coated his dick. Sam's skinny legs wrapped round his waist. When he'd driven two spit-slicked fingers up inside that tiny pink opening, Sam's head had thunked back against the tiled wall, mouth falling open. When he'd sunk his dick in in one harsh thrust, Sam had made a soft hurt gasp and clutched at Dean's shoulders, clinging. And God, he'd been so _tight_ , so tight and so warm, clenching down hard around Dean's cock, completely unable to loosen up, and Dean had wrapped one arm round Sam's slim waist and supported his little ass with the other and just fucked in, going harder and faster than ever in his life, brutal jagged punches of his hips, rutting Sam into the wall. Sam had been incoherent, _God_ and _Dean_ and _oh_ the only words Dean could make out, crying out, and Dean could feel Sam's insides quivering around him. He was driving Sam a little farther into the wall each time, impaling him, practically turning him inside-out every time he withdrew. It hadn't lasted long, but although Dean put Sam down afterwards his knees had buckled when he tried to stand, and he was shaking. So he'd scooped him right back up, despite the _Dean, no, come on, I can do it, put me down._ And he'd carried Sam to the shower.

Now, though. Now.

They haven't left the bunker in about three days, he thinks. He's not really sure. He's got Sam pinned face-down over a table right now, and he's drilling into him hard, and he can feel Sam trembling all over beneath him, gasping for air as he's ground into the wood. When he spreads Sam's ass he sees where his dick is spreading Sam's poor little asshole wide, so wide that it's shiny where it's stretched round Dean's cock. He's always been pretty huge, especially girth-wise, but he swears his dick has been more and more engorged over the past week. But that hasn't stopped him forcing it into Sam's hole at every opportunity, and three days ago they just stopped dressing, stopped looking for cases. Because Dean suddenly wanted to do nothing except fuck Sam. Feel the grind of his wrist-bones under Dean's fingers. Cradle his skull in both hands.

He growls; shoves in harder, knocking Sam flat to the table. He grabs both those wrists and pins them above Sam's forehead and Sam fucking _whimpers_ , gasps for air and _whimpers_ , and for some reason that goes straight to Dean's cock, Sam's hole tugging at his length when he pulls out only to pound back in.

Over the past few days Dean's fucked Sam over practically every surface in the bunker.

'Dean,' Sam's panting, turning his face to try and catch Dean's eye. 'Slow down- please- you're going too hard-'

Rage rises up like bile; he growls. Grabs Sam's hair and slams his head into the table. Speeds up his pace even more, biting and sucking at the bones of Sam's shoulders. He pulls out all the way, and watches the gape of Sam's hole as it tries to shudder closed, and Sam shudders too. Something about that sight is intoxicating, and Dean presses his thumbs to Sam's hole, stretching it open as far as he can, and Sam is trying to curl in on himself and saying something in a panicky voice but that isn't nearly as important as the glisten of Dean's come inside that gaping pink hole, and when Dean presses down on Sam's belly- hard- he watches it well up and ooze out hotly.

He touches the abused flesh with his tongue, tasting the bitterness of his own come, lapping at Sam's hole, and the funny noises Sam's making turn to groans. And then, when Sam is completely limp, boneless, helpless, spread over the table, he drives right back into that little hole. And fucks him hard enough that Sam can probably feel it in his throat. Dean's hand is still on Sam's stomach, and he can feel the bulge that pushes in and out as he thrusts.

Then there's another noise; a harsh sob from Sam.

'Dean, fuck,' he says, ' _fuck_. Stop. _Stop_ , Jesus.'

And all at once he realises what he's doing, what he's done. Shame so fast and sudden his stomach drops. He stops right there where he's buried in Sam, hands turning gentle. 'Sam. I'm sorry- God- I'm so fucking sorry-'

He pulls out as carefully as he can, wincing at how raw and pink and open Sam's hole is, and Sam shakily gets to his feet, swaying a little, tears on his cheeks.

'Fuck. Fuck. Come on. I'm so sorry.'

'I'm okay,' says Sam in a small voice. 'I'm fine. It's fine-' but Dean's already herding him towards the shower.

When they're in, hot water beating down, Dean positions Sam in front of him and begins rubbing gently at his shoulders. 'You with me?'

'Yeah. Yeah. Dean-'

'Sam. You know that I-'

'I know. It's fine. I just- you got kinda carried away.'

'We should stop. We need to stop. At least until we get this thing off my arm.'

Sam turns. 'Don't you dare. If this helps-'

'I'm hurting you. That doesn't help. And do not, Sam, _do not_ say that I'm not, or so help me.'

Sam is silent. Dean pulls him back against his body, feeling the delicate knobs of Sam's spine against his chest, linking his arms over Sam's stomach, a hand over each hipbone. Sam lets the breath go out of him. His head falls back onto Dean's shoulder.

'Fine,' he says. 'Fine. But, Dean. If you need to- if you need to let loose- really need to- you don't do anything, okay, you come to me.'

'And you bend over. Yeah, it's not like there's a million ways that could go wrong. Hell, it already has.' He runs his fingers over the ridges of Sam's ribs, tracing the indentations between them. 'How the hell did you get this skinny?'

He knows Sam's gone red, the way he knows everything about Sam. 'You were dead.'

'Sammy.'

Sam turns round. He takes Dean's face in those huge, beautiful, slender hands of his, and kisses him. After a moment, Dean kisses back.

They're both too spent to rub one out, not that they'd want to right now anyway. They stumble down the hall, still naked, and fall into Dean's bed.

They lie there in the dark beside each other, staring up at the ceiling. Dean wonders if Sam's aleep. A few minutes go by.

Sam moves over and lays his head on Dean's chest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love. Even on dirtybadwrong stuff like this. ;)


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